But little Belle sat silent for a moment, her eyes raised again towards her dear mother’s home, her hands clasped, and a gentle, happy smile on her lips.
Then she spoke, with that same, soft smile, and with a peaceful light in her eyes.
“I was just saying a little prayer inside of my mouf,” she said, “to ask Jesus to make papa feel like doing it, so dear mamma and I can do some work for Him togefer. And papa will be helping too, all fee of us togefer,” added the dear little thing, to whom no thought could bring more happiness than the one that mamma in heaven, waiting for papa and Belle, would know and be glad when she tried to please Jesus and to do His work.
“I shall tell your papa Johnny is an honest boy,” said Maggie. “You know we know he is, that day when the lilies were six cents a bunch, and he had no pennies change for the ten cents I gave him, he would not keep it, but pulled four lilies out of another bunch to make it even with me. I told him he could keep it all, too.”
“I guess he is a pretty good boy,” said Bessie. “Sallie says he is.”
“I’ll tell papa all about him,” said Belle, which she did as her father drove home with her that evening in the starlight. The fog which the morning haze had foretold had lasted but a few hours, and all was now again fair and clear.
“Has my pet thought of what she wants me to give her on her birthday?” said Mr. Powers.
“Yes, papa.”
“Ah! Maggie and Bessie helped you to it, I suppose. I thought they would,” said Mr. Powers.
“Papa,” said Belle, leaning her head upon her father’s breast, and gazing upward at the stars, “if a present comes from mamma, it must come from heaven, and so it ought to be somefing very, very good: don’t you think so?”
“It shall be what my darling pleases, if papa can bring it about,” said Mr. Powers, drawing her closer to him as she sat upon his knee.
“The fought of it came from heaven, I know papa,” Belle went on. “Bessie gave it to me; and I am sure Jesus gave it to her.”
“What is it, dearest?” asked her father.
So Belle told her father of the “lily boy” and his desire to go to school, and of what she wanted for her birthday gift from him and dear mamma.
“And you would really rather I should do this than to have any thing for yourself, my little girl?” said he.
“Yes, papa, really, really I would; and then you know, papa, if the present comes from mamma and you, it will be as if she and me and you did a little work for Jesus, all fee togefer,” and she put up her little soft hand caressingly against his mouth.
He took it in his and kissed it, but no more was said for a little while, as they drove slowly home in the still summer night.
“Will you promise, papa?” said Belle at last.
“Yes, darling, I will promise; that is, you shall send the boy to school if I find he is steady and good, and his parents are deserving people.”
“And if not, papa?” questioned his little daughter, fearful lest this plan, which seemed to bring her nearer to her mother, should fail her at the last.
“If not, or if I find any reason why this thing is not wise, I will set aside the sum of money it would have taken, and we will soon find some way in which mamma’s gift may do work for Jesus.”
Belle was satisfied.
“I am so glad my darling is learning to be unselfish, and to take thought for others,” continued Mr. Powers.
“It’s all Maggie’s and Bessie’s fault, papa, all their fault. It never came to me, myself; but they taught me how. And it makes me want to be good when I see them good, even when they don’t tell me a word.”
“Yes,” said her father: “I think it has been a great blessing to you to know Maggie and Bessie.”
“They’re the best of all my blessings, ’cept only you, papa. I’m a great, great deal happier since I knew them, and I guess gooder too. I don’t slap Daphne now; and I don’t fret so much when you tell me a thing can’t not: do I papa?”
“No, my darling,” said her father: “my little Belle is becoming very good and obedient, and I see she takes pains with her quick temper too.”
Mr. Powers felt as if he could not bear to part from his darling that night, and when Daphne had undressed her and laid her in her bed, he went and sat beside her, and held her little hand.
“Put out the light, and leave the window open, papa,” she pleaded; “so we can look up at dear mamma’s home. See how bright the stars are. Bessie says the water-lilies are like the stars come down here, so we can think the stars are heaven’s lilies; but they do not fade like the lilies; do they, papa?” She rambled on half sleepily, without waiting for an answer. “And Jesus never fades, nor the angels He takes up to His heaven. Papa, I’ll try to be like a little water-lily, and then when Jesus has done wif me on earf, He will gafer me up to His home where mamma is.”
So she talked on about mamma and Jesus and heaven till sleep came, and she forgot alike the joys and sorrows of her young life.
But her father sat there, long after she fell asleep, and thought with more pleasure than any thing had given him since his wife’s death, of the work which “all fee togefer” might do for Jesus. And as he remembered the many mercies which God had still left to him, especially the blessing of this loving little child, he took shame to himself that he had allowed his own great grief to make him forget the wants and troubles of others; and he resolved that on each Christmas and birthday, from this time forth, Belle’s gift from her “mamma in heaven,” should be the means of doing good to some one who needed it.
He was as good as his word respecting the water-lily boy; and the very next day went to work to find if Johnny Howe and his parents were worthy of the help his little daughter wished to offer them.
All was satisfactory. Johnny’s parents proved to be industrious, deserving people, with whom the world had gone rather hardly for the last year or two. Johnny himself, a bright boy, eager to learn, and who made the most of all his opportunities. His father and mother thankfully accepted the offer Mr. Powers made to provide for his education as long as they should need such help; and dear little Belle was made happy in this “birfday present.”
Belle’s were not the only young eyes which gazed upward at the starry sky that night with sweet thoughts of the heaven beyond.
Maggie and Bessie had gone out with Colonel Rush to see Mr. Powers and Belle drive away; and the evening was so soft, and warm and lovely, that after they had gone the Colonel sat down upon the steps of the piazza to enjoy it, with one of his pets on either side of him.
It was very quiet: only two sounds broke the stillness; the ceaseless song of the sea, – very low and gentle it was to-night, – and mingling with it came the sweet tones of Mrs. Rush’s voice, as she sang her baby to sleep in one of the upper rooms. They all sat listening to the two hymns; so different, yet with no discord between them; the music of the one blending so perfectly with the music of the other.
For a moment the sweet singer above paused; then, unconscious of the listening ears below, began, —
“I was a wandering sheep.”
It carried the Colonel back, back to that time, now nearly two years since, when on just such a night as this, with those same mingling voices sounding in his ears, peace and rest had flowed in on his troubled soul; when striving to reach the light pointed out by the beloved little messenger beside him, he had laid hold upon the cross, and felt its brightness all about him. Its rays had beamed clearly for him ever since; for he knew from whence they shone, and that they should never fail him.
The baby slept, and the young mother’s voice ceased as she laid it in its cradle: but its father sat on, with the music still sounding in his heart; and, as if the holy spell were on them too, his little companions sat as motionless and silent, – Maggie leaning on his knee, Bessie with her hand nestled in his, her head laid lovingly against his arm.
Suddenly, some one threw back a blind from the library-window, and a stream of light was thrown from within upon the sunny, brown curls which lay against the Colonel’s shoulder. He looked down at her.
“Bessie, what were you thinking of, darling?” he asked, as he saw the wistful face and earnest eyes, which seemed as if they saw beyond the stars.
“A good many things, Uncle Horace,” answered the little one. “I thought about Belle, and how glad her mamma must be to see how hard she tries to be good, and I know it is hard for Belle to be good sometimes; and about heaven and Jesus. And then I thought about our travels, and how good our Father in heaven has been to us, and how I wished I could do something very much for Him; and then – and then – Uncle Horace, I don’t know what made me, I think it was the sound of the waves – I thought about one night at Quam Beach, when I lay awake a great while, and looked out at the stars and heard the waves making just such a soft sound – and – and – I was saying a good many little prayers about you, Uncle Horace: it was the night before the next morning when you told me you had found Jesus, and was going to be His soldier.”
There was no answer in words; but his arm found its way around her, and clasped her closer, and when the brave soldier could steady his voice, it was to Maggie he spoke.
“And what was my honey-bee thinking of, to keep her so quiet?”
“I was thinking of our travels too, Uncle Horace,” answered Maggie; “but not in such a very superior manner as Bessie. I was thinking what a lovely time we have had all these months; and now how glad I am that papa and mamma have come to decision to stay in Newport till it is time to go home in the autumn. I like Chalecoo; but I’d rather stay in this lovely place than to go anywhere else. And now our travels are done.”
“For the present, yes,” said the Colonel; “but we have all still one road to keep, one journey to go, dear Maggie: that journey that shall end at last in our Father’s house.”
“Yes,” said Maggie, with grave sweetness: “the narrow road, where the golden letters and the silver thread shall guide us, and where our Brother will help us where it is too hard for us to go alone.”
“And where our Father has let us find a few jewels for Him, I b’lieve,” chimed in Bessie’s soft voice. “I hope we may find some more, but He knows best.”
“‘They that seek shall find,’ if they search by the light of God’s Holy Word,” said the Colonel, laying a loving hand on each little head; “but we may not know what treasures are ours, till the day when he shall make up His jewels.”
And now go forth on your travels, my Maggie and Bessie, followed by the earnest prayer that you may be the means of drawing other little pilgrims to journey beside the green pastures and still waters of the way of salvation, led by the hand of the gentle Shepherd, who has said, “Suffer little children to come unto me;” and who will guide them at last to that perfect home, prepared for such as are of “the kingdom of heaven.”